Me and Thee
by LovinFace
Summary: Hutch's thoughts in the ambulance after Starsky kills Bellamy in A Coffin for Starsky


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Me and Thee

By LovinFace

He did it again. He put his life before mine. Up on a dirty rooftop, he shot and killed Vic Bellamy, knowing that in doing so he would die. But he did it to save me. I want to shake him, scream at him. What makes me so special that he's willing to die for me? God, I hate this.

He called me at 3:58 this morning. I almost hung up on him, thinking it was a prank call. But something made me stay on the line. "Hutch. Help." Two words that sent a shiver of fear through my very being.

Four hours later, he was awake and talking in the hospital. He was also determined to find who did this to him. I think I told him to stay at the hospital, though I knew in my heart that he wouldn't. We spent the day trying to track down the top three suspects. He deteriorated before my very eyes, but he stayed focused and even managed to crack jokes. He's a fighter – always has been. He's survived seeing his father killed, being uprooted from his home and sent across the country to live, the jungles of Vietnam, and being shot in the back not six months ago. And he fights with the same tenacity for the victims of crime, for his friends, and for his family. For me. I still remember him holding onto me after Forest. I treated him like shit. But he hung on to me and saved me.

And now I'm sitting in this ambulance, holding his limp hand, watching him struggling to breathe, even with the assistance of an oxygen mask. I watch as his eyes flutter open, and I know he's searching for me. Making eye contact, I paste on a smile.

"It's okay, Buddy. We're almost there."

He tugs at the oxygen mask, but I stop him. "No, leave it on."

His hand falls limply to his side. He's pale and he's drenched in sweat, his face taut with pain. His eyes open slowly and he looks at me. I mean, he really _looks_ at me. Like he's looking through me to the depths of my soul.

He pulls at the mask again. "Got…things…to….say." He puts it back to his face and takes a breath. "Don't…feel…guilty…Gotta…watch my….partner's …back."

This time I push the mask back down on his face. "Easy for you to say, Starsk. I'm supposed to watch your back too, remember? I'm supposed to watch your back, not watch you die." The words spilled out before I could stop them. That had been happening a lot today. In the car _I'll be walking around tomorrow. _In the alley _That's 12 hours gone._

I watch as anger flashes in his eyes, but then he squeezes them shut and clenches his jaw, obviously riding out a spasm of pain. He lifts the mask just a bit then and says the three words that sum up our friendship.

"Me …and…thee."

Me and Thee. How many times have we referred to each other as Me and Thee? It started on a stakeout…our first as detectives. It went all wrong…not with us, but with the other team of detectives. I'll never forget their names -- Gil Donovan and Jess Steele – partners for 10 years. Gil had taken a bullet meant for Jess. The image of Jess holding Gil in his arms as he lay dying still haunts my dreams sometimes. Jess was crying and just kept asking, "Why, Gil? Why?" Gil replied, "You're my partner. It's what we do." Then he died in his partner's arms.

Starsk and I were obviously upset. We'd seen cops die before. But this one hit us hard. I guess because we could see ourselves in Gil and Jess. I was scared then…scared of screwing up, scared of letting Starsky down, or worse yet of getting him killed. He must have known what I was thinking, because he leaned over to me and said, "Hey, as long as we got me and thee, there's nothing to worry about."

Me and Thee. I recall the story from Sunday School. Jonathan and David -- one raised in wealth, the son of a king, the other a shepherd. Two friends from different backgrounds who loved each other as much as their own souls. And I'm sitting here now, watching part of my own soul die.

Starsky gasped as the ambulance hit a pothole. He reached out for my hand and I grabbed it and hung on.

"God, Starsk. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have—"

"You'd….do it….for….me."

I look at my partner. He's teetering on the line of consciousness now, and his breathing has become rapid and shallow. Yes, I'd do it for him. I would do anything for him. I would go to the depths of hell for him. I would die for him without hesitation. And he knows I would. But I also know this…as long as there is a breath still in him, he will never let me.


End file.
